Ultimatum
by YnitOcelot
Summary: He's been kidnapped. He doesn't know why. However, others do.


_*Disclaimer* Nope none of the characters belong to me. Except the ones that do of course._

_I haven't been scared off as you can see. Thanks to everyone for their brilliant reviews, don't worry, more is coming!_

_It was dark. So dark that he briefly wondered if he had gone blind. Groggily he tried to make sense of his surroundings but since it was like trying to figure out a black hole he gave up. He shut his eyes and attempted to remember what had happened last night but it was a useless endeavour. Only shattered pictures were dredged from his tired brain. He decided to try moving only to discover that it was impossible. A few moments later as full awareness returned to him he realised why. His wrists were bound with substantial rope, securing them tightly to the heavy object he was resting against, in the shape of surrender. After about five minutes of frantic squirming he was forced to admit that he was well and truly trapped. Shouting wasn't an option as heavy-duty tape muffled all but the quietest of syllables. Frustrated and not a little concerned he glanced around the room. His vision was slowly sharpening and he recognised the bleariness as the result of some drug that was only just making its way out of his system. It looked like a cellar, steps led up to a door the room's length away. Empty beer cans were strewn across the floor and a haphazardly built table skulked in the corner. The setup looked to have been done in a hurry, as though he hadn't been expected. Was he on a case? That would explain it…but no. He wasn't. Suddenly a flash of anxiety wormed up his stomach. People who tied you up were bad news. Of course it was better than them killing you, but it usually meant they were putting you aside to kill later. Again he tried to free himself but it was hopeless. He was completely at the mercy of his captor. As he was thinking this thought the door swung open… _

Bodie stomped off the slush from his boots and fiddled with his key. As he pushed open the door he mused how unlike Doyle to be completely unreachable. Of course they didn't live in each other's pockets but still… then he remembered; the date. Grinning to himself he speculated that his friend was most likely nursing a hangover. Hopefully Doyle had had a good time! That Julia seemed a nice girl. He wondered if she had a friend. The conversation with Danny had almost slipped from his memory.

Suddenly he stepped on something. Glancing down he realised it was a brown envelope. He picked it up and twirled it between his fingers. There was no stamp or return address just 'William Andrew Phillip Bodie' scrawled across the front. He frowned. Who used his full name? He lowered himself into his sofa. It looked like a bill, just what I need he thought ruefully. Carefully he slit it open. A piece of paper fell out and fluttered onto the floor but Bodie's questing fingers encountered something else, something that made his breath catch in his throat. In his hand were several long, recognisable, brown curls.

Panicking he grabbed for the phone and dialled the familiar number but his heart sank as he heard the message telling him to try again later. He fell back in the seat, still clutching the curls. Doyle's curls. Then he spotted the grubby paper. It was short and to the point.

WAIT BY THE PHONE, DO NOT CONTACT THE COPS.

The next twenty four hours were agony for Bodie, straight after reading the letter he had raced off to Doyle's house. He found it empty; no signs of a struggle were evident and the alarms hadn't been set off. His car was outside and locked but Bodie saw that the bonnet wasn't shut properly. He checked inside to find that the engine was broken. After searching around (and explaining to a passer-by that he wasn't about to steal the car, it was his thank you very much) he discovered that the wires had been cut. His mind was whirling and he assumed that Ray had decided to walk instead of being late.

A quick jaunt to the local pub only confirmed it; Doyle had never arrived for his date. Bodie met a distressed Julia who wanted to know why he had stood her up. Bodie calmed the girl down with his usual charm and left feeling extremely anxious. Doyle was quick-witted and resourceful but Bodie felt this would be beyond even his skills to help.

His mind's eye was throwing up all sorts of horrible images; Doyle lying dead or dying in a ditch somewhere, or locked up in a cell. His lifeless body floating in a river flashed behind his tired eyes. Bodie shook his head to clear it. He couldn't afford to think like that.

As soon as he was through his door he began a silent vigil by the phone, jumping at every little noise. He received three calls throughout the day; two from potential dates and one from Murphy asking if he wanted to have a 'boy's night' down at his local. All were met with a tense 'no thank you' and the swift sound of hanging up.

Finally at eleven o'clock the call came. Bodie snatched the receiver up in a feverish haste.

"Hello Bodie, you got the message then?" Danny's voice sent shivers down Bodie's spine.

"What have you done with him you –"The expletive made the caller laugh.

"Considering I hold your friend's life in my hands you are being VERY foolish Bodie."

"What do you want?"

"A job"

"What sort," Bodie inhaled deeply, "of a job?"

"Oh," Danny sounded amused, much like a cat playing with a mouse. "Listening now are we? Very well, I want the blueprints for the new K4 Machine Gun. I'm sure you've heard of it." Bodie had and paled at the suggestion.

"How do you expect me to get in there? It's going to be difficult." He growled down the phone.

"I don't know! Use your CI5 connections to get in. I don't suppose I need to…persuade you, do I?" There was the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. Bodie went even whiter, if it was possible.

"Don't hurt him, I'll do it, just don't hurt him."

"Good lad. You better have the documents in your hand the next time I phone or else the next 'gift' could be a finger."

"Ok" he agreed, feeling sick.

"Oh and by the way, tell your precious CI5 and Ray here takes a one-way trip, understand me?"

"Loud," said Bodie hating himself, "and clear." The phone cut off leaving Bodie visually shaken. What was he going to do now? He didn't really have a choice. He was going to steal those designs.

The watery sunlight filtered through Bodie's car window as he pulled up a few meters from the impressive gates. He sat numbly in the car thinking through what his next move was going to be. Was he really going to pocket million pounds worth of potentially dangerous blueprints to give to a ruthless mercenary? Yes, for Ray's sake. He let himself out of the vehicle and sauntered as calmly as he could over to the guard.

"Hello, CI5, I'd like to see Mr Benton please, routine check-up nothing to worry about, ta." He was stopped by the young man as he headed towards the gate.

"I'm sorry, Mr…Bodie is it? Mr Benton isn't here today, if you'd like I could let you see Mr John Halverson instead but he won't be back until tomorrow." Bodie's heart dropped. Halverson wouldn't have the authority to permit him to get to the files.

"No, I'll come back tomorrow then." The guard was young, possibly not older than around twenty or so. He could take him easily but where would that leave him? Inwardly Bodie smiled; here he was being a One-Man-Geneva-Convention. The smile soon disappeared as he thought over the (possibly) destructive setback. He was watched suspiciously as he headed back to his car and drove off at a sedate pace to avoid any massive misgivings.

_The door opened throwing a blinding square of light onto Doyle. Screwing up his eyes he could just make out a silhouette through the glare before it narrowed to a small bright sliver. Danny hunkered down in front of his prisoner who regarded him with a fierce defiant stare. A small smile twisted his thin lips; a light of something attaining to malicious delight was clearly visible in his startlingly pale eyes. After a few moments he looked away, reaching down for some tool or item. Doyle watched him with apprehension churning in his gut. He sensed the glee behind the smooth façade which didn't bode well. Danny had obviously found what was looking for and raised his hand, his mouth curled in a gloating smirk. It glinted in the half-light. A knife. It was a practical boot knife, the kind carried by soldiers everywhere, but the hairs on Doyle's neck were standing on end. Danny was checking it with a meticulous air that was almost theatrical. Doyle was sweating, the only outward sign of his panic that was creeping up inside him._

"_Well then," said Danny. The partial light caught his face oddly, even bordering on sinisterly. Danny lent forwards over his helpless captive. "Let's get started."_

Murphy strode out to his car concerned. It definitely wasn't like Bodie to turn down a good 'Boy's Night Out' he was usually the one organising one when the rest of them were knackered! Sighing he lowered himself into the seat. It was just going to be him, Bodie had declined, Harrison was busy, Jax was ill and he couldn't get hold of Doyle anywhere.

"I've been abandoned." He muttered as he started the engine.

The pub was busy and Murphy drank sparingly knowing that he had work in the morning; turning up hung-over would only make it worse. Suddenly he spotted a pale face he recognised talking intently to the barmaid.

"Bodie!" He turned and Murphy was surprised to see the tenseness in his face, he didn't look like he'd had a relaxing break. "I thought you weren't going out tonight."

"I wasn't, just getting a drink." Bodie's tone had elements of warning in it, his face darkened like a thundercloud.

"Is Doyle with you?" Murphy instantly realised he'd touched a raw nerve. Bodie's face froze and he shook his head angrily.

"We don't live in each other's pockets ok Murph?!"

"Okay, look how 'bout I buy you a beer?" Bodie shrugged and stalked off leaving Murphy feeling very foolish. Maybe Doyle and Bodie had fought over something he decided. They better make up before Cowley found out. He glanced up at the clock. Probably time to leave. Yawning he let himself out.

Bodie leaned against the outside wall of the pub and exhaled shakily. Too close. He was guessing that he only had another day or two at the most before George Cowley came down on him like a sack of bricks. He'd better make his move. With a new determination Bodie set off towards his car.

"Murphy, in here." Murphy closed his eyes and groaned. What had he done now? His head ached where he'd walked into a low beam in his flat which definitely hadn't added anything positive to his mood. On top of that was Bodie's strange behaviour. Slowly he ambled into Cowley's office. He shut the door and nodded to the old man but he didn't look like he'd called Murphy in for pleasantries.

"What's up sir?" Cowley leant forward over his desk and fixed him with a cold eye.

"Murphy, have you seen Bodie over your break?" Murphy was taken aback.

"Yes, I saw him once; he's still got time off." Cowley raised his eyebrows.

"I know perfectly well who's off and who is not, thank you very much Murphy. Did Bodie say anything?" Murphy shrugged and said;

"He looked pretty nervous about something. He practically snapped my head off when I asked about it." Cowley tapped his glasses on his hand. His face seemed to fall. "Why?"

"Because Murphy Bodie has tried to get access to Smithson's using his CI5 connections, I don't know why. I want you to tap his phone. Set a twenty four hour tail." Murphy frowned.

"Why would he want inside Smithson's?"

"That's for you to find out laddie!" Cowley's arrant tone sent the agent running.

Murphy rubbed his eyes. They felt like sandpaper. Beside him Harrison was indulging in the same activity. Still, it had been an interesting day. Murphy was still feeling the guilt that he was tailing a friend and fellow agent but he quickly pushed those qualms away. He had bugged Bodie's phone while Harrison had followed him to Smithson's. His report was negative; Bodie had been unable to gain access. Harrison had also shadowed him to various shady pubs and unsavoury areas, there he had met with several contacts and petty criminals but nothing had passed between them other than some hushed words which try as he might Harrison was never close enough to catch what transpired. Each time Bodie had left looking extremely concerned.

Now they were sitting in the van a few houses away waiting to see if Bodie was expecting a call. He seemed agitated, pacing and glancing nervously outside. Both agents flinched the first time fearing he had caught them but he was too preoccupied to notice the intruding van. Perhaps he almost wanted to be caught. Murphy shook his head at this thought and tried to forget it. But still... Bodie was the best. The best didn't get caught so easily.

Suddenly Bodie's head snapped round and he glared at something out of sight. Murphy slipped the headset over his ears then prepared to listen in on the conversation.

"Have you got it?" The tone was light but carried a hard feeling and the speaker seemed irritated.

"No, but these things take time Danny!" Murphy could hear the desperation in Bodie's voice. "Twenty four hours, that's all I'm asking." The caller paused and he could hear rapid swallowing from Bodie's line.

"Alright. Twenty four hours, no more, and then you have to have the blueprints. If not you know what happens." The phone clicked and Murphy pulled the headset off. Harrison was staring at him with wide eyes. Both were shocked and sickened by the voice down the line.

"What was that?" Murphy asked.

"I don't know," replied Harrison "but I think we have to inform the old man."

Danny lounged on the worn couch, seeming as at ease with the situation as was humanly possible. Nearby Richard and Jonathon were hunched over a pack of cards. The only sounds emanating were occasional crows of triumph from Richard. Danny chuckled quietly to himself, he always felt cheerful when a job was going his way. Lazily he let his eyes wander over the pair, quietly reassessing them.

Richard was the bruiser. He wasn't overly endowed in the muscle department but radiated a sense of 'bigness' which he used to his advantage. He was also fortunately for Danny, not stupid. Danny refused to have anyone stupid in his gang. You needed brains to survive and a dimwit was a liability, especially in the heat of the jungles and fire fights. Danny did not like liabilities. He also didn't like up-starts who aimed to usurp his position. Richard obeyed the leader without question, simply turning a blind eye to whatever Danny cooked up. The never-ending supply of money appeared to help with this.

Jonathon, the newest to the gang and the youngest, was mechanical and a pretty good shot. He was a bit of a Romeo and was the one who had rigged their captive's car. As Danny was observing him he ran a hand through his dark hair then licked his lips in concentration. He was nicknamed Johnny as he so often used it as an alias. He was handy assassin and could be depended on to get things done, no matter how amoral they might be. Right now a cigarette was steadied jauntily between his lips as he played his cards with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

The door opened with the customary three short knocks and Wallace rushed in his face grim.

"What's going on Wallace?" Danny gazed coolly at the man. Wallace was intelligence of the group. He was also Danny's right-hand man. He sported a thin weasel-like face and the uncanny ability not to be noticed. He tended to be overlooked by outsiders but he was more dangerous than the other two put together. They were the muscle; he and Danny were the brains.

"Bodie's been snooping about, he's close. We should move; if CI5 manage to find out then we're finished." The message was carried out with no sign of emotion, almost as characterless as a robot.

"Sounds like Bodie" he agreed "we're going to have to put a stop to that won't we?" He leapt up from the sofa and began issuing orders to the group in a strict no-nonsense voice. "Richard, gather the things, Johnny start the engine and Wallace," He paused for effect. Leading a group was like putting on a show. You needed to keep them on their toes. "You know what to do." He then hurried over to the door leading to the cellar and pulled the oxidized bolts across with some difficulty. Rubbing the rust from his palms he flung open the door with a flourish.

The light bit into the darkness illuminating the prone figure within. Danny clattered down the steps noting to his satisfaction that Doyle hadn't moved since he had finished with him around an hour and a half ago. He crouched down and grabbed a handful of curls forcing the man to look up at him. The slice above his left eye was still trickling blood and the bruises stood out starkly against his pale skin. It was obvious that he had only regained consciousness in the last couple of minutes. The beaten man looked up at him with a fierceness which surprised Danny. Usually lesser men were finished at this point.

"They'll find me." The mercenary blinked; the only outward sign of his disbelief. It was a wonder that Doyle still had the strength to speak. However the agent continued. "They'll notice I'm gone and then they'll find me." Danny tightened his painful grip and replied with alarming calmness.

"By then it'll be too late."

It had started to rain when Bodie pulled up outside the looming disused warehouse. The evidence he had gathered all pointed to here. He slipped the safety catch off the Smith and Wesson which was clutched in his fist so hard his knuckles were white. Bodie knew he wouldn't win a fight with the gang - especially because he was outnumbered four-to-one – but he could scout the place out and hopefully find his friend. Taking a deep breath he began creeping up to the building.

Once inside it was clear that it was deserted. Bodie snuck through the half-destroyed door and found a room with he guessed had until recently been occupied. There was an old sofa, a rickety table and some chairs. Kneeling in the dust Bodie discovered a bent playing card with a black dot in the uppermost left corner. That was what Jonathon marked his playing cards with. They'd been here. He edged over to a large sturdy door held in place by stiff rusted latches. Silently he laid a hand on the bolts and steeled himself. Would he be in there?

"Ray?" He yanked at the bolts so hard that he bruised his hand when they didn't move. Quickly he tried again and heaved against the unyielding oak.

It popped like a cork nearly sending Bodie tumbling down the rotten stairs. At the last moment he managed to catch himself on the rail, feeling the tarnished cold under his throbbing palm. The sharp beam highlighted the table where two objects had been carefully arranged. Bodie stumbled over to it, rubbing his arms against the chill, and picked up the first one. It was a tape recorder but the second made bile rise up in his throat. Ray's watch (His new watch which he had been constantly teasing Bodie about) had been smashed violently, the pieces strategically placed on the wood. The symbolism was all too clear. Bodie's fingers hovered over it for a few seconds before he turned his attention back to the tape. Hesitating for almost a full minute he pressed play.

The machine shattered on the wall. Bodie's breathing was irregular, his mind sickened by what he had just heard. He stumbled out of the suddenly claustrophobic room and back outside into the wet evening air. He lent against his car trying to block out the sounds emanating, echoing around his skull. The sounds of his friend's torture beat up against his brain like some trapped animal. He didn't know how long he stayed in that position attempting to force some rational thought to appear but when he opened his eyes he knew what he had to do. This was his last chance.


End file.
